


Not This Again

by rebeccavoy



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:52:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebeccavoy/pseuds/rebeccavoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Sam said ‘Not this again’ while on Atlantis</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not This Again

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Not This Again
> 
> Rating: PG  
> Spoilers: SG1: basic Carter oriented things, Threads; AT: s5
> 
> Summary: written for lj: sg1_five_things: “Five times Sam said ‘Not this again’ while on Atlantis”
> 
> Author’s Note: sg1_five_things
> 
> Date: 10/10/09
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

1\. Sam was far more alert in her office than she had ever been in her lab at the SGC. She didn’t know whether it was the knowledge that she was in command, the fact that Elizabeth Weir’s old office never felt like home, or simply that paperwork didn’t draw her in as deeply as the prospect of pure science; whatever the reason, she was well attuned to her surroundings in the small glass office. However this was not why she had sighed and pushed away her work in frustration. Even if she had a living Ancient right in front of her, willing to pass on all the knowledge of the ages, she would not have been able to ignore the storm coming her way.

Sheppard and McKay’s raised voices got louder and louder as they approached her office, arguing (undoubtedly) about something she would have little interest in but would have to settle anyways. Propelling her seat out from under her desk, she rolled her eyes, muttering “Not this again,” under her breath as she went to stand in her doorway, hoping to allay any thoughts they might have had about making themselves comfortable.

The pair bickered back and forth endlessly, and once again Sam was finding herself smack in the middle, each extraordinarily stubborn man latching on to either her military or scientific half and demanding she declare them right. She had served this function for years, too many years, until the point where Jack and Daniel had learnt to solve their differences without her, and now it looked like it was about to start up all over again.

But, she suddenly realised, with one notable exception.

With the two men finally stopped outside her door, she raised a hand as McKay opened his mouth to state his case. “Work it out yourselves, gentlemen,” she said firmly, and slid the doors to her office shut.

Ignoring the two men making goldfish impressions through her glass walls, she sat back down at her desk and got back to work. It sure was nice being The Man.

 

2\. It was the sound of wood hitting wood that drew Sam to the training room; in the metal city that was Atlantis, wood was an oddity that peaked her curiosity. She wasn’t quite sure what she expected, but seeing Ronan and Teyla spinning around and beating the crap out of each other with wooden sticks wasn’t exactly high on her list. Any concerns she may have had, however, were put aside when an exhilarated outburst escaped from Teyla, and she settled into the doorframe to watch.

The pair were easily matched, and it soon became clear that they were well-used to sparring together, that they were fighting not to win but for the simple satisfaction of the exercise. They made quite an impressive show: Teyla had a lithe strength to her movements which, as she twirled around her opponent, proved quite effective against Ronan's broader, more heavy handed swipes.

It wasn’t long before Sam’s inherently analytical mind was cataloguing their moves and deciphering the rules of their match. As such she almost missed Ronan’s words, direct yet out of nowhere, in no way slowing his movements.

“She shouldn’t be going with us, we don’t have the time to look after her.”

There was no doubt as to who the ‘she’ was. Sam had informed Sheppard’s team that she would be joining them on their upcoming mission, eager as she was to get her hands on some of the Ancient tech that had been abandoned on an outpost they had stumbled across. Ronan apparently, had not been convinced.

“We have no idea who, or what, will be there,” he continued.

It was now that Teyla darted a quick glance at Sam, apparently having been aware of her presence the whole time. “I hardly think she will require ‘looking after’. She is a colonel, after all, surely she would have received the same training as Col. Sheppard.”

Ronan scoffed slightly as he deflected several advances Teyla made, “She’s a scientist.”

Sam shook her head; not this again. It was always something, either she couldn’t protect herself or her team because she was a woman, or she hadn’t truly earned her military rank – receiving it only through academic, or decidedly more unsavoury means. She knew that Ronan hadn’t intended to insult her, that he had accepted her leadership and even respected her in his own authority-distrusting way. But he had never seen her in the field, and barely knew her off it. She knew it shouldn’t be necessary, that she had worked damn hard for her position, but she hadn’t yet proven herself to him.

And this was her chance.

“Mind if I have a go?” she asked, peeling off her base jacket as she entered the room. “I don’t get as much exercise as I used to, sitting behind a desk.”

She accepted Teyla’s bantos rods and smiled at the woman’s twinkling eyes; she clearly had faith in her abilities, even if Ronan didn’t. It struck Sam that Teyla, a warrior and a leader herself, had likely experienced a similar life.

Striking up a defensive position, Sam ignored the appraising, then dismissive, look Ronan gave her toned arms and slight frame. She knew she was small, leaner than even some of the other female officers on Atlantis, but she was smart and quick, and knew how to find her opponent’s weaknesses.

Dismissing Ronan’s offer to train first, to learn the intricacies of the form (“I’m sure I’ll pick it up”), she dodged Ronan’s first assured blow. Years of sparring with Teal’c had taught her to use her far smaller size to her advantage and she easily slipped under his arms, swinging a rod around to his front. With three quick jarring blows Ronan was down and Sam was victorious.

She said nothing, merely handing the weapons back to Teyla and collecting her jacket. Walking down the hallway towards the lift, however, she heard Teyla’s cheerful tones and Ronan’s grunt as she helped him off the floor. “I tried to warn you.”

 

3\. Sam loved being on Atlantis. She loved the excitement. She loved the discoveries. She even loved the new uniform. She did not, however, love being millions of light years away from her family. It was hard knowing that the gate could take her home in the blink of an eye but that she couldn’t just step through at the end of the day. And on the days when this really got to her, there was only one thing that cheered her up.

“Ma’am, there’s an incoming transmission for you.” She swore she’d never tell Walter, but she wanted to kiss Chuck every time he said those words.

When her callers’ faces filled the screen, everyone turned back to their work to afford her as much privacy as possible. So despite being in the middle of Atlantis’ control centre, in the middle of her shift, Sam couldn’t hold back her giant grin when she saw Jack and Cassie looking back at her.

Now that Sam was on Atlantis, Cassie was spending her summer vacation from college with Jack in Washington. It was an arrangement they had both seemed pleased with, and one that Sam had thought would work well. When they both opened their mouths at the same time, however, Sam knew this was about to proved in error yet again. The pair, more alike than any father and daughter, talked right over the top of each other, their sentences merging in a way that would have given Daniel grammatical nightmares.

“It’s not fair, Sam – she won’t even – I’m going to go live – BRUSSEL SPROUTS! – not a kid anymore – please come home – I’m going insane – I miss you – No, I miss her more!”

By this stage all pretence of privacy was gone as everyone watched the three-star general whine and tattle on the young lady next to him. Sam simply pinched the bridge of her nose, fending off a burgeoning headache – how could they have this effect on her from an entirely different galaxy?

Recognising that the pair were still prattling on, giving her staff an unwanted insight into their commander’s domestic life, she cut them off with a look. It was quite impressive, actually, watching the one-and-only Jack O’Neill falter mid-bluster when faced with a pair of intently shining blue eyes.

“Not this again! I swear, you two are going to be the death of me.” Now painfully aware of her surroundings, Sam gave up any hope of carrying this off professionally and settled for quick precision.

Deciding to start with the easier, more reasonable of the two, she fixed her gaze on Cassie and made quick work of deciphering her complaints. “Okay, Cass, first of all, we both know you’re not a kid anymore, but hon, while you’re living under Jack’s roof you’re just going to have to suck it up and get over it: his house, his rules. And no, you can’t go stay with Daniel; a pile of books will fall on your head and we’ll never see you again. Besides, your dog makes him sneeze.”

Turning to Jack, her gaze became more pointed when she noticed the smug look he wore. Clearly he figured she was on his side with the whole ‘his house’ argument. “As for you, mister, Cassie’s right: she’s not a little kid. Loosen the reigns a little, doesn’t need a nine o’clock curfew, and quit scaring Jason when he comes to pick her up. And for crying out loud Jack, you’re a grown man, if she cooks brussel sprouts for diner just eat them, they’re good for you.”

Having been thoroughly chastised, the pair exchanged sheepish looks. “Now, was that all?”

“No,” Cassie said.

Sam sighed. There was no way her staff would ever look at her the same way after this. “What? What else happened?”

Jack glanced at Cassie before turning a heartfelt smile back at the camera. “We still miss you.”

She felt her shoulders fall as his words reached her. Home was just so, so far away.

 

4\. There are two things that always remain exactly the same. First, the overwhelming scent of hay, a childhood memory of summers at the farm now forever contaminated. And second, Fifth’s cold hard eyes, watching, staring. Everything else changes, each night bringing her images more heart wrenching than the last.

Tonight at the farm, for it was always at the farm, Pete looked at her strangely, his youthful face framing eyes aged behind his years. He spoke in his own voice, but the words were not his, issued from a mouth set in a crooked grin that seemed entirely out of place.

“You know me, Carter,” he said. “I will always be here for you. I will always care about you, a lot more than I’m supposed to.”

Sam cringed at his words, knowing that they just weren’t right. He didn’t mean them. Or maybe he did. Were the words real? Maybe his face was wrong. She didn’t know. She didn’t like not knowing. She stepped away from Pete, backing away from the man she couldn’t quite understand, only to fall to the ground as a pan went shooting in her direction, grazing her shoulder as it passed.

Pete’s face turned angry, twisted. “Don’t you walk away from me, Samantha. You can’t walk away from me. The Little Healer’s got to help fix her bird’s wing. And I’m not quite ready to fly yet. You’ll know when I am.”

She turned and ran into the house. She didn’t know why she was running from Pete, he had never hurt her, but his angry voice had scared her and she knew, somehow, that this time she was going to get away. If she could just stay away from the voice, she would be okay.

She found herself standing in the bedroom, her base uniform replaced by comfortable flannel pyjamas and an old Academy t-shirt several sizes too big. The room wasn’t hers but yet it was, all the same. The bed was covered with a heavy patchwork quilt, worn and lovingly repaired in places. Her fingers ran over the neat stitches filling several squares. Names, they were names. Some she recognised: Jonathan, Sarah, Charlie… but others, others just seemed odd and out of place. Their newer, brighter stitches misshapen and blurred, the letters flashed before her eyes, but they made no sense to her.

D-A-N-I-E-L

T-E-A-L’-C

S-A-M-A-N-T-H-A

G-R-A-C-E

Sam shook her head, confused, but not afraid. The yard and the rest of the house scared her, but here she finally felt safe. Hearing several fishing rods slide from where they were stacked in the corner she moved to right them, catching her reflection in the mirror as she did so.

The mirror stood tall, showing her entire length, but the face looking back at her was not hers. Her reflection had green eyes, not as bright as Sam’s own blue ones, but just as compelling. Her hair fell in auburn curls to her shoulders, shining a burnished copper in the light streaming from the window. The reflection made her feel cold and unsure, the peace she found in the rooms comfort falling down around her feet. She knew this woman, knew that the empty stare on her face was not the expression she would normally wear.

The woman raised her hand, stepping out from behind the mirror with little more disturbance than an eerie ripple. Sam tried to move away, tried to call out for help, but the warm colours of the room around her melted, taking away all hope and leaving behind only a cold darkness. The knowledge that it was Elizabeth’s hand in her forehead, not Fifth’s, gave little comfort. Even less so when bitter, hurtful words started hurling around her, bouncing off walls Sam could not see to pound into her again and again.

“You cannot fill my place. You can never do what I did. You are not worthy. You should not have been chosen.”

The words, lacking Elizabeth’s smooth rich tones, ripped the air from Sam’s lungs. They were formed in a voice she had never heard outside her own head. Thin but determined, Jolinar’s voice had haunted her for years, and seemed to take pleasure in the opportunity to return once more. She taunted and yelled, getting increasingly louder as Sam felt Fifth’s eyes burning deeper and deeper into her back.

When she woke, it was to a tear-soaked pillow and an empty room. Breathless and disoriented, Sam looked around, searching for something – anything – to ground her. But her walls were foreign and her family was far. There was no Jack to curl up to, and no lab to disappear into.

Retrieving her blanket from the floor, she crossed the room to the chair looking out over her balcony. Huddling up in the thin, unadorned bedspread, she stared out at the stars and wished, begged, pleaded that this would not be the start of another run of nightmares. Not while she was here on her own. “Please not again. Not this again.”

 

5\. Sam liked to imagine that you could hear the ocean at night on Atlantis, that if you stood very still you could even feel the slight rocking of the waves. Rodney had told her, in no uncertain terms, that it was ridiculous, that the cities internal dampeners prevented any rocking and that the heavy set walls and doors blocked any ocean sounds. But Rodney wasn’t here right now, and so she was free to indulge herself in any way she wished.

She was, in fact, all alone in the control centre – which, to be perfectly honest, was how she liked it. She had her steaming mug of coffee, the light from the gate, a head full of calming ocean sounds and screens full of data from the diagnostic she was running. For Sam, this was better than a day at the spa, and just the relaxation she needed after a long day of running the city. As such, it was with no small annoyance (though she liked to think she hid it well) that she turned to face Chuck when he interrupted.

“Ma’am? You’re up late. Is there anything I can do for you?”

She fixed him with what she hoped was a kind but ‘please-go-away’ smile. “No need Chuck, I’m just running the monthly diagnostic.”

Chuck started slightly, “I was just about to start it myself ma’am, I -”

“Relax Chuck. You’re not behind, I just thought I’d do it since I was here.”

He calmed slightly at her words, but still looked a little uncertain. “If you’re sure, ma’am. I would have thought you’d be tired of running diagnostics by now.”

Sam got the impression that by the end of her tenure as commander of Atlantis, he would be well used to her oddities. The technicians at the SGC had long since stopped questioning the bizarre need of the Head of Sciences to run basic diagnostics herself. Not to mention the strange enjoyment she seemed to glean from it.

“I know what you mean,” she smiled. “‘Not this again’, and all that. But it does me good to keep my hands dirty.”

Nodding his dismissal, Sam turned back to her work as Chuck headed off to bed – confused, but grateful for the night off. As her fingers skipped over the controls, Sam felt the peace rise up from the machine, through her body, and settling over her like a warm blanket.


End file.
